


knife's edge

by oliviathecf



Series: Kinktober 2019 [8]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Forever Evil (Comics), Green Lantern (Comics)
Genre: Blood, Earth-3, Gore, Guro, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, Knifeplay, M/M, REALLY GROSS, Rape, Stabbing, Wound Fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-28 00:31:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20957492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliviathecf/pseuds/oliviathecf
Summary: For Kinktober 2019. Day eight.there was no coming back from something like this.





	knife's edge

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the warnings. This one is gross.
> 
> Enjoy!

He couldn’t keep it a secret forever, damn the people he was forced to work with. They’d find everything out eventually, all of his secrets, everything he fought so hard to hide.

Like how his ring could essentially keep him alive through severe trauma, taunting him the whole time while his body was littered by holes. Harold had usually managed to drag himself away before they noticed, hiding until his body was back in one piece and they all would just assume he had hidden from the fight again. But he hadn’t gotten so lucky, not that time, not that fight. Instead, he lay on the ground in front of his teammates as they stood above him, body slowly knitting itself back together. Pitiful tears streaked down his cheeks, and it wasn’t all from the pain.

Harold knew he was fucked. It was just a matter of time before the other shoe dropped, before someone cornered him and wanted to try and see how far it would go. How far Volthoom’s power could stretch to bring him back from the edge of death, how many holes had to be put into him before it would be all over.

A part of him welcomed death, he was tired of having to live like that. He wanted someone to release him from the life he was forced to live. But a bigger part of him feared death, the idea of no longer existing. The endless black of death, just thinking about it had him shivering.

Someone would eventually grow too curious and Harold wasn’t surprised that it was Owlman who approached him, pulling him into a room with a hand around his neck and ignoring the jeers of the other Syndicate members. 

It wasn’t about them, Owlman wasn’t going to share until he got to the end of the rabbit hole. He was surprisingly possessive over a man who he said meant less than nothing. It would’ve made Harold laugh but he didn’t think he was capable of it anymore, especially not with the fear coursing through his body like a disease.

Harold hit the ground with a whine, immediately curling in on himself. He knew exactly what it was about, especially as his wide eyes caught the sight of a blade glinting in Owlman’s glove. He was familiar with the sight of it, it was one of Owlman’s favorite weapons. He had talked about how he liked getting up close and personal with the person he was stabbing, feeling their blood splashing over his face and hands.

It was sick and it made Harold feel sick, because he was about to be on the receiving end of that blade. Of that manic obsessiveness that took over Owlman when he got a taste of blood, like he was a shark and Harold was the prey.

There was a surprising lack of build up when it came down to it. No speech, no gloating. Just Owlman standing above him, breathing heavily and looking down at him with arousal written clean over his face. It was the most emotion he had seen out of him in a long time, and he was squirming under the intense heat of his eyes.

And then Owlman was moving like a bolt of lightning, on Harold in an instant. The knife slid into his belly and Owlman moaned, hand tightening on the handle.

“You like this.” He said, licking his lips.

It wasn’t a question and it wasn’t true either. Harold gasped out in pain, eyelids slipping shut, pushing hot tears out over his cheeks. He knew not to respond though, knew that it would only make it worse. 

The knife sliding out felt even worse, a stinging pain pulsing through the fresh wound. Hot blood gushed over his fingers when he moved up on instinct to touch the cut, and he cried out. Owlman touched the wound reverently, and it was the softest touch he had ever gotten from him.

“Beautiful.” He murmured, eyes unfocused and wild under his cowl.

And then he was sliding the knife back into his body, under his ribs, next to the first one, into his thigh. Over and over and over again, stabbing pain making Harold weaker and weaker. Volthoom laughed about it, starting the slow, painful work of stitching him back together as Owlman continued to take him apart.

Under the all consuming pain, he could feel Owlman’s hips jerking into him. He was hard, of course he was. The stabbing and the blood was sexual to him, violence the only way he knew how to experience feeling anymore. A cold sweat broke over his skin and Harold panted through sobs, writhing weakly under him.

And then Volthoom spoke, his words making Harold try and fight harder despite the bloodloss.

“You could fuck one of those holes, the wimp wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.” His ring hissed.

And, oh, did Owlman like that suggestion? He let out a series of ragged pants, dropping the crimson smeared knife with a metallic clatter and a splatter of red. His hand flew to his belt, clawing at it until he was hard in his hand, throbbing from the sensation of violence. Harold whined, trying in vain to get away from him.

It was no use. He was far too weak from the knife and from all the energy Volthoom was drawing to keep him alive, to keep him from bleeding out. Owlman was on him in an instant, straddling his waist and feeding the head of his cock into one of the weeping wounds on his stomach.

His fingers traced around it reverently as he slid the head of his cock in, moaning louder than Harold had ever heard him moan. The sliced flesh squelched in a way that had Harold gagging, unable to throw up without the energy. He could only watch as Owlman fucked his wound, blood and pre-cum mixing.

It hurt more than the knife, to be used like that. He could never recover from seeing Owlman fuck an open wound on his body, moaning and rutting into him like a wild animal. Under any other circumstances, he would laugh at how quickly Owlman came, only taking a few moments inside of his body to fill him up with cum. 

But the knowledge that Owlman came inside of his stab wound had him retching and crying harder, sobs wracking his body.

There was no coming back from something like that. Even as Volthoom repaired his body, he knew that he was going to be hurt for a long, long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave some hate (or love) either here or on my various social media pages.
> 
> [ Fic Blog. ](https://fanfictionolivia.tumblr.com/)   
[ Twitter. ](https://twitter.com/fficolivia)
> 
> This is a part of Kinktober 2019. You can read all of the fics for the month, or you can pick and choose your favorites. Either way, stay tuned for a new kinky fic every day of October!


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